immigrant song
by youmakemehappywhenskiesaregrey
Summary: In 1895 two immigrants, Alistair Kirkland(Scotland) and Sean Murphy(Ireland) move to America but their homes never leave them and making a new life can be as difficult as leaving an old one is painful.
1. Intro

**Hey everybody, thanks so much for reading! This is going to be a pretty interesting story i think. The two main characters will be Alistair Kirkland for Scotland and Sean Murphy for Ireland (this is set before Ulster was split off). Human names will be used. this is meant to capture the lives of late 20th century immigrants and will have a lot of history in it. Please Enjoy!**

Alistair Kirkland was the oldest son of a tailor from Glasgow but had never particularly had an interest in the trade. He left the family business to his younger brothers and went about on the pretext of trying to find a job. He could read and write on a basic level and enjoyed reading but had little schooling and was not a proper candidate for any high paying job. He worked around in several factories but lost his job repeatedly because if a particularly bad temper.

When working options had run out he crossed the channel to Belfast and got hired on the docks. He was a big lad and his size and strength impressed his employers. He kept to himself in Belfast, reading when he could afford a book and drinking when he could not. After two months he was moved up to ship yard work which payed marginally better and continued to impress his employers with his strength and hard work. He received a personal thank you from the foreman when he single handedly broke up a fight between two large dock workers. He earned a great deal of respect form that incident and people called him the Scot in an affectionate way.

His first trouble with employment when the nephew of the yard owner's wife needed a job and his was the one sacrificed to accommodate. The foreman had explained that it was nothing personal but they had to look after their own and promised he would be given a good recommendation for his next job.

Alistair then spent several months shipped from yard to yard and then back to docks, always the problem was that people gave to their own. Several times a native of the city was given a job over him, even when everyone knew he could do better work. Alistair found himself increasingly irate. He enjoyed ship yard work but found it unchallenging and the increasing lack of work did not help. He was drawn more to drinking and even to gambling which his church back home had always condemned. He found himself increasingly unhappy and thoughts of returning to Glasgow soured his stomach. He had no love for his home or for this new city that was determined to kill him. He thought of London but knew it would be the same.

Increasingly his thoughts turned to immigration. Several of his friends had left and gone to America, one had even gone to New Zealand and become a farmer but he had no interest in farming. He thought of the big cities of America which he knew little of and wondered if his prospects might be better there. He could always return if they weren't.

As time wore on and his options grew slimmer and slimmer and he found work mostly as a fill in and seasonal work the prospect of immigration grew brighter and brighter and then one day he found himself purchasing a ticket for a steamer. The line of men buying was long and most of them were giving their life savings to do so or were using money sent to them by others who had immigrated. Alistair payed for himself. His ticket promised a steerage class ride to Boston two weeks from the date.

That night he sat down and wrote his father. He told him he would not be staying and that it was only for work. He told his family that he loved them and would send them money for his youngest sibling to go to school. He promised his mother he would go to church even though he had little intention of doing so. Then two weeks later he was on the boat, crammed into steerage with a hundred other poverty damaged men and women all looking for a better chance.

**Thanks for reading**

**Sean/Ireland shows up in the next chapter.**

**Next chapter is the story of the crossing!**


	2. The crossing

**Thanks for reading! Enter Sean Murphy (it's a little weird for me to call him that, I've got a relative with that name, haha) anyway, this chapter is a lot longer and a lot more substance, the first is more of an intro i guess. Well, please enjoy!**

Alistair kept to himself on the boat, despite the cramped quarters. Being a single man with no family or relatives he was kept in a large room with the other single men who all slept on the floor. They had payed rock bottom prices and received rock bottom accommodations. The few of them who had money to spare spent it gambling on nightly boxing matches which because of his size Alistair was the rising star of.

On the third day at sea he was up against a good size Irishman named Sean Murphy. Murphy was a grinning piece of work who just kept taking hits. It was a fight many people had longed to see and Alistair was taking his first real beating.

"Get up, Lad!" Someone shouted as he fell backwards onto his rear. He shook his head, dazed. His knuckles aches and there was blood seeping through the cloth he had used to bind them. There was blood on Murphy's fists too, the man had fought the night before and his fists had not healed.

"C'mon, get up!" Sean teased. "I signed up for a fight not a warm up."

Incited by his taunts Alistair launched himself up again and landed a good hit against Murphy's cheek bone. The man stumbled back into the crowd who held him for a moment before throwing him forward again. They circled each other, Murphy dancing on his feet and Alistair watching his every move. Murphy had several ugly, purple bruises rising on his chest and ribs and Alistair was having trouble seeing through a swollen eye.

"Knock him dead, Sean!" Someone yelled. "Do it for Ireland!" this was greeted by cheers.

Sean grinned and launched a barrage of fists, half of which Alistair took. He caught the man again with a well time right hook and sent him slamming to the ground. Victory in hand he wobbled on his feet for a minute before blackness won out and he was left to the mercy of gravity. The last thing he heard were the cries of disgust and cursing that always accompanied a lost bet.

Alistair awoke to a sudden dousing of cold water. He cursed, groaned and lay back painfully. "Leave me alone." He grunted. He heard another splash of water and knew someone had doused Murphy too. The man splutter and groaned.

"Up with the both of you." A man's voice said. "You've slept for too long. People need to work here."

Rolling over and groaning Alistair saw that the two of them had been left in the boiler room where they had passed out.

"Great fight, Al." A man in overalls said as he walked by. "Double knock-out! I won big time. I said Murphy wold go down first but I didn't count on you going down too. Good match."

"What time is it?" Alistair asked, holding a hand to his head.

"'Bout one in the morning. If you want some fresh air you can go up on deck now. I don't think anyone will stop you."

"Thanks, man." He grunted again. He and Sean trudged out, aching and sore. They climbed the ladder up to the deck and inhaled the cool sea air. Men of their status were not generally welcome on deck but it was night and there was no one about and so the two of them leaned on the deck railings and groaned.

"Anyone ever tell you you hit like a mule kicks?" Sean asked.

"Only people I hit." Alistair said, grinning through split lip.

Sean laughed but stopped because laughing hurt his bruised ribs. "I ain't had a fight like that in a long time. Not since I used to duke it out with my brother Eamon."

"You hit pretty hard yourself."

"Used to do fights in Derry and before that back home. . . before the priest found out and put a stop to it anyway. What about yourself?"

"Some in Belfast."

"Good fights there. I fought there too"

They fell silent and let the cool breeze blow over them. Down below it stunk and was stiflingly hot. Too many trips with too many passengers. The stench of the last batch of poor immigrants never left and was only ever added too.

"Where abouts you from?" Sean asked, sitting down on the deck and sticking his legs through the railing.

"Glasgow."

"What were you doing in Belfast?"

"Thought I'd find work there."

Sean laughed. "Me too. There was more work there than there was in Derry but not enough to keep me going. For the last five months I haven't even been able to get a job."

"What kind of work are you in."

"Anything really. Ship yard work mostly but they don't want to hire me. Guess it's cause I'm Catholic."

"Yeah, i couldn't find much work either."

Sean shook his head. "Immigration was the only thing for me. I'm the middle of eight kids. There's nothing for me. I got one older brother in New Zealand, another gets the farm, another's becoming a priest and my two little sisters are gonna have to get married as best as they can and god help little Colin if he wants anything out of life." He sighed. "You got any little siblings?"

"Two younger brothers. They're taking my dad's tailoring business."

"That's not so bad then. At least you don't have to worry about them."

"Yeah."

Sean squinted at him. "How come you aren't taking over, you being the oldest and all?"

Alistair shrugged. "My dad says I'm restless. I don't stay in once place for too long. I think he might be right."

Sean nodded. "Guess I'm the same. I left the farm and moved to Derry, ended up staying with a cousin in Bogside. Man I knew it was bad when he didn't work but I stuck around for about a year trying to do something. Wasn't nothing there for me so in the end I headed west. Belfast was a little better. The first week I was there I got hired as a stand in for a man with a broken leg. That lasted about two days, until some of the workers didn't like their own being replaced with a Catholic. Foreman said I had better go."

"That happen a lot?"

"Yeah, I've got better luck being hired in a group. Sometimes I got work when they've a mind to hire a group of us for seasonal jobs. You know, just to show that there's no hard feelings towards us R.C.s." Sean laughed. "Yard was apt to riot one day when they brought in ten of us to fill in. we left early and weren't invited back for the second day." He laughed again but there was something angry in the laugh. "I been boxing to keep a roof."

"Did some of that myself." Alistair grunted.

Sean talked some more, he told Alistiar about his eight siblings, Eamon, Connor, Daniel, Colm, Bridgid, Molly and Colin. He talked about the farm and about how he would have liked to have had a shot at it. He told all about his brother Daniel becoming a priest which he was both pleased and displeased with, he talked about his brother Connor immigrating. He doted heavily on his sister Molly who was only eight and on his little brother Colin whom he affectionately called 'puppy'. He made plans to bring his sister Brigid across when she turned eighteen.

Alistair listened and admired their family and the closeness they shared but he sensed from the telling that Sean had been a mostly forgotten child. Not a farmer, not a priest. He sensed Sean knew it too and that was one of the reasons he was so keen to immigrate.

Sean finished as the first light of morning crept over them. "I wish we were going to New York. I've always had a desire to see the Statue of Liberty. I had a cousin write me about it. He said it was the grandest thing he'd ever seen. A lady standing in the mist, arm all raised up like she was waiting for you."

Alistair smiled. "Aye." He said. "That does sound magnificent. Perhaps you can take a trip to see it."

Sean nodded. "After me first pay check goes home that's what I'll do."

A whistle sounded and a pudgy man in a staff uniform came waddling up. "Time to go, Lads." He said. "Passengers are waking up."

They paused before making the decent back down the ladder. "Just once I'd like to see a sunrise on the ocean." Sean said before swinging his legs down the hatch and into the dimly lit tunnel.

Over the next week Sean began to hang around Alistair for increasing amounts of time. Alistair didn't particularly mind though, because the man was always talking and what he had to say was usually interesting or he was telling a story that was particularly engaging.

The first great mark of their friendship came three days after the fight when Alistair was reading in a corner of the steerage room and San came waltzing over to see. "Can you read?" The Irishman had asked, face a little red.

Alistair had shrugged. "Enough." He said.

San twisted his hat. "You know, I've always had a mind to learn to read meself." He mumbled. "Mind you, that was very difficult to do what with there being no National School in my village and all and even if there was, my family wouldn't have had the money to send me." He twisted his cap tighter. "I mean, the priest gave some of us lessons. We were supposed to memorize out catechisms but you know. . . that can only take you so far and there wasn't a book in sight for me to read. . ." He sat down and continued to twist his cap. "Could I just look at it?"

Alistair listened impassively, realizing almost instantly what Sean was asking. The poor man wanted to learn to read. He handed over the book without a word. Sean held it as if it were made of gold, his eyes wide.

"What's it called?" He asked.

"Robinson Crusoe."

Sean nodded and marked Alistair's place with his thumb so he could flip through the pages. "What's is about?"

"A man who's stranded on an island."

Sean looked at the book intently but his look softened to one of sadness as he handed it back. "It's no good to me." He said. "I can't read."

"Do you want to?" Alistair asked, knowing the answer.

Sean looked up, excitedly. "Like I said, I've always wanted to."

"I could teach you."

Sean's eyes sparkled. "You could? Would you?"

Alistair felt the corner of his mouth tug upwards. "I would. Do you want to start now?"

Sean crossed his legs and leaned against the wall. "That'd be great!" He cried. They spent the next two hours with Sean stubbornly struggling through the words. He stumbled and fell over them as he went but Alistair had to admire his dedication. Out poured a lifetime's desire to read. After that they spent every night they weren't fighting up on deck together. The crossing took three months but by the end, Sean was reading as well as anyone Alistair knew. The man was a fast learner and had a gift for language. By the end he was reading on his own, only occasionally asking for help on a word and then usually figuring it out before he was answered.

Alistair had only brought five books and Sean insisted on reading them all. They spent the voyage in constant states of bruising but through it all, Sean stuck with his learning and even picked up the basics of writing from his reading, Alistair helped him with the rest.

One night when they sat on deck reading Sean looked up and out to sea. "It breaks my heart that I never went to school." He said. "I cold have been doing this for years now."

"Well you now have years to do it." Alistair grunted form his copy of _Ivanhoe. _He smiled a little, glad Sean had taken to reading so much. It was a trait he admired in other people.

They looked out over the water and it was Sean who sprang to his feet first, crying out into the night. "Look!" He cried. "Look there! I see land."

Alistair rose to his feet and squinted into the darkness then broke into a grin. "So it is." He leaned on the deck rail and watched the city scape grow nearer. He could feel the excitement in his chest but at the same time he felt a great sadness beaus he was now truly away from his home. He had told himself that he had had no love for Glasgow but that was not true and now, faced with this glittering wall before him he missed the damn place. Next to him, Sean was weeping and laughing. Weeping because dear Ireland was gone to him and weeping because Boston was before him. He scrubbed at his face with the back of his wrist and laughed.

Wept and laughed.

**Thanks for reading.**

**Next chapter the two make landfall and find a home.**


	3. The new neighborhod

**Thanks so much to all of the people who read this far and to the person who followed! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!**

The steerage passengers were the last to leave the boat. They were kept down below until the last minute, crowded with their belongings, huddled together, excited and fearful. Some cried, some laughed, a priest had a last minuet mass going. A group of men and women knelt saying the rosary around him.

Sean and Alistair stood together, quiet except for the kind word Sean had to a fellow Irish Passenger. Alistair waited, a tight feeling in his chest. He was not sure what it was, maybe fear for what this new land would bring, maybe the fear that he would never go home, maybe he was just excited. He couldn't tell. Sean finally had to nudge him. "Time to go." He said.

They filed out and off the boat, holding their belongings and gaping at the new land. People yelled and hustled them on, directing them towards the immigration offices where they were made to wait. It took several hours for the immigration officer to get to them. During that time Sean asked Alistair what he was going to do.

Alistair shrugged. "I don't know. First thing is to find a place to stay I guess."

Sean said he had a place picked out across town. "Me cousin Seamus has a flat. He immigrated five years ago. He says I can stay with him until I get my feet up. I don't think he'd mind you at all."

Alistair thanked him, a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Their turn came and they were inspected from the waist up, weighed, measured, their throats looked at, their teeth check and finally deemed suitable to become Americans. After the final paper work was signed, they stepped outside, papers and bags clutched in their hands and they were Americans.

Sean's cousin Seamus turned out to be a very agreeable man, on first sight his threw Sean into a bear hug and nearly smothered him, then he greeted Alistair and introduced him to his wife Mairead and their five children, two of whom he proudly said were going to school.

Seamus had an attic that he said Sean and Alistair could use. There was only one bed but they agreed that they could take turns sleeping in it and then agreed that they would split the room in half.

That night they ate their first decent meal in three months. Seamus assured them that they were doing well enough to feed all of the house's occupants but had to insist that Sean an Alistair contribute to the rent if they were going to stay. Neither of them had any problem with that.

After dinner, Mairead and two of the older children cleaned the kitchen while the three others ran outside and the men went and sat on the steps. Seamus took out a pipe and began smoking. "Have you boys done much thinking on finding a job?" He asked

Sean sank into a rickety chair sitting near by and straddled it backwards. "Much, but what would you recommend?"

"Well," Seamus said, squinting up at the sky. "I work at the fire house. I could ask if they could use anyone there. Other than that I'd say try along the docks or a construction job." They watched Seamus's children play for a few minutes. "Cities are growing. Always work there."

"How have you been?" Sean asked.

Seamus shrugged. "It's not what I thought it would be. I don' know if it's been easier or harder but I sure as hell miss home." His face crumpled but he did not cry. "I miss home like I miss no other. Mairead understands. She's a second generation out of Cork but she understands. You'll know the pain soon too. Soon it'll sink in and you'll know that your home is gone to you and it doesn't matter if you loved or hated it because all of the things you either loved or hated will be gone from you." There was a look of such intense sadness that Alistair looked away to give him some privacy. "Ah but listen to me, you've only just got here and I'm giving you a tragedy. C'mon lads, I'll show you the neighborhood." He sprang to his feet with new energy.

They set off down the street. Alistair saw at once that it was a slum but the people who cared managed to make their stoops look nice and they kept their steps swept. Children ran in the street, some like Seamus's better off than others and yet others still hapless urchins. "The McGintys are our neighbors and on the other side the O'Neills. Sean you should meet their daughter Mary. She's quite a looker and she sings too, pretty as a lark. She works in a cloth factory with their other two daughters, they aren't as pretty." They reached the corner where Seamus waved to a pub. "This is McConnell's Bar. They call them 'bars' here. Fat bastard wanted to be as American as he could be."

"Is that a bad thing?" Sean asked, sounding amused.

"I wouldn't necessarily say so but you'd have to meet old McConnell. The man thinks he knows more about Ireland than a man fresh off the docks and more about America than the president. They way he talks you'd think he was in every Irish uprising since Cromwell and the American revolution to boot."

Sean laughed. "How long's he been here?"

"Around sixty years. He even fought in the civil war, if you'll believe it."

"Wow." Sean said, looking at the pub with interest.

"Up ahead is the church. Father Ryan isn't that bad but Father Collins is a bit of a hard case. Reminds me of Father Keane back home."

Sean shuddered in mock horror at the memory and they continued on past a dry goods store with the name Schmidt. "Only German in the neighborhood. Him and his wife Gretchen." They passed a grocery with the name Sweeney on it and then a tailor shop with McClusky&Sons printed above it. Sean was delighting in being able to read. He had never before had this freedom and suddenly everything printed was interesting right down to the street names on the sidewalk and the stamps on the fruit vendors' crates. He was ecstatic. A whole new world had been opened to him and now that he was in America he was going to read every last word he could find.

Sean admired the neighborhood as they made their way up the street to Seamus's red brick fire house. He marveled at the engine and was delighted to shake hands all around. He had seen some bad neighborhoods and although this was not the best it certainly was not the worst. He remembered the year he had spent in Derry. He had loved the people but there had been no work there and the place had killed people. Most of the men he had known were miserable. Those men had needed work like they had needed water but been denied and without it hey withered. Whiskey never could replace water.

This was different and here, life would be different. Sure he was living in a house with only three rooms and an attic rented and sure the five kids slept in the living room and kitchen but it hadn't been much different at home. At home his house had only had one bedroom and he had shared sleeping in the loft with his siblings and their had been eight of them. Here he only had one person in a room.

Here he could read and things would be better and he would send home money and eventually Brigid would come across and her life would be better too. That night as he lay in bed he could only think of what a great fortune he was going to make for himself.

**Thanks for reading. **

**Next chapter the boys' lives in America progress!**


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